A Hint of Basil
by Shelly Lane
Summary: Basil attempts to tell his life story but is repeatedly interrupted by Ratigan's henchmen. Disney and Doyle own all. Some lines inspired by YouTube discussions.
1. Buckingham Palace

**Buckingham Palace**

I hardly intended to oversleep, but I had been working later than usual the previous evening, and as a result, I was utterly exhausted. As I slumbered, I experienced a most peculiar dream in which Ratigan and I were children again.

"Stop me!" he pleaded in my dream. "I know a cruel death awaits me in the future if I succeed in becoming a criminal mastermind! You must stop me!"

Upon awakening, my heart sank within me. I never have been able to comprehend such a feeling. Although I have never wished harm to anyone, Ratigan's demise had brought great jubilation throughout the empire. I too should have rejoiced at the loss of my nemesis, but I simply could not bring myself to do so. To this day, there are still times when I remember the professor as the childhood friend I once knew rather than the sewer rat responsible for the scars on my back.

"Why did you do it?" I asked rhetorically. "If you had only avoided the temptation to succumb to malevolence, we could have…"

I shook my head. There is absolutely no point in dwelling on what might have been.

"Good morning, Mr. Basil," Mrs. Judson greeted as I took my seat at the table. "You nearly missed breakfast."

I made no reply as I sipped my tea. My eyes wandered to the calendar on the wall, coming to rest on the current date: June 22, 1900. It had been exactly three years since Ratigan and I had confronted each other for the final time.

There was a knock at the door. I remained at the table as Mrs. Judson answered. She returned shortly.

"Mr. Basil, it's one of the royal guards. He's here with his wife," she stated. "I told them to wait in the living room."

"Thank you, Mrs. Judson." I finished my breakfast and went to receive my guests.

"A good morning to you," I greeted.

"Aunt Fish!"

I noticed a child on the woman's knees.

"Aunt Fish!" the toddler repeated.

The mother blushed. "Sorry about that, Detective."

"Don't trouble yourself about it," I replied. "I do believe Mrs. Hudson has errands to do this morning, and Holmes and Watson are busy with a case. Shall I summon the cat?"

"If you would, please," the lady replied.

We managed to sneak into Toby's residence. I scanned the vast rooms to make sure no humans were in sight. Seeing no one, I rang the bell I have kept on my mantel ever since the night of Queen Moustoria's Diamond Jubilee. Hearing the familiar sound, Mrs. Hudson's cat came running.

The child giggled and hurried to embrace Felicia. "Aunt Fish! Me wuv Aunt Fish!"

The cat purred. Ever since the young mouse was only a few days old, Felicia had doted on the child.

"I still can't believe it," the guard muttered. "When I worked for Ratigan, I never imagined Felicia would become a friend of the family and be harmless enough to…" He chuckled. "Quite a story about how she reformed her ways and came to live here!"

"Not a story of interest to anyone else in the world," I remarked, lighting my pipe.

"That's what we wanted to discuss with you," he began. "Her Majesty, Queen Moustoria, wishes your name to be remembered in even the twenty-first century."

"No one in the twenty-first century will care that I ever existed," I responded nonchalantly.

"She has summoned you to Buckingham Palace, where she has assembled historians and biographers and…"

"What do they wish to know?" I queried.

"They want to know about you," he answered. "You are to tell them your life story. Children in the future will learn about the detective who saved our queen's life and prevented the empire from becoming a dictatorship ruled by a heartless tyrant."

"Utterly absurd! I was merely doing my job!" I protested.

"And I am merely doing mine," he replied. "Right now, my job is to remain at Baker Street until you agree to return with me to the palace."

I sighed. "Very well."

"You must all come: you, your assistant, your housekeeper, your dog, and your cat."

"Felicia isn't my cat!" I argued.

"She seems to think she is," the guard commented. "She's thought so for the past three years."

Having received affection from "Aunt Fish," the child was now searching for "Uncle Toe." I had no trouble believing that someone so young would have a bit of difficulty pronouncing "Felicia," but I failed to comprehend how anybody could mispronounce "Toby."

"Uncle Ba'il!" The toddler embraced me.

I am not overly fond of children, and I wanted nothing more than to free myself from the arms that were wrapped around my knees. Bending down to loosen the arms proved to be a mistake. Two chubby hands found their way around my neck.

Felicia and Toby were smirking. It was painfully obvious that they were delighting in my predicament.

Upon our arrival at Buckingham Palace, we were greeted by a bat.

"Her Majesty has been anticipating your visit," he stated, gallantly tipping his hat.

"Do you work here?" I inquired.

"Not at all, sir," he replied. "I am highly honored to have been invited here as a guest this morning." After a brief pause, he added drolly, "I might work here if you hadn't arrived at precisely the right moment three years ago!"

I frowned. "Fidget?"

The bat smiled. "It's been a while since anyone's called me that. I go by my given name now."

"I should have recognized you by your peg leg!"

"I get that reaction a lot."

"You're not…" I was unsure how to phrase my comment.

"I'm no longer a gibbering imbecile," he finished. "I am no longer under Ratigan's control, nor am I considered to be a criminal. Furthermore, I regained the ability to fly in December of 1897, thanks to an exceptionally great surgeon. As a result, I have no need to be the nervous creature I once was."

"What brings you here?" Mrs. Judson inquired.

"Her Majesty has requested everyone involved in the Flaversham Failure to attend. She is making every attempt to ensure the information presented this day is completely accurate, for history has been made that shall remembered for centuries."

Dawson laughed. "Is it really known as 'the Flaversham Failure'?"

"Among other names," Fidget answered. "Ratigan's former employees will be joining us shortly, accompanied by the police, of course. They have been offered less time in prison in exchange for sharing all they know about the events leading up to the professor's attempted treason."

He turned to the guard's wife. "I only wish your brother could have graced us with his presence. He would have excelled if he had been given the chance to make a better life for himself."

"Bartholomew is with us in spirit," she stated. "All of them are."

Fidget changed the subject. "I understand Mr. Flaversham and his daughter will be arriving later this morning. I look forward to seeing them again, for I have not yet had an opportunity to beg their forgiveness."

"I hate to ask about matters that are none of my business," Mrs. Judson began, "but why are you speaking so eloquently? Reforming your life wouldn't alter your manner of speech that drastically!"

He grinned. "Just to see if Basil will notice. Think he has?"

I refused to dignify his comment with a response.

"I believe we have this backwards," Dawson whispered to me. "Our meeting today would be considered a perfect example of a happy ending, but the queen wishes to hear how everything began."


	2. Youth

**Youth**

I know I shall never forget the day I first encountered the rat. His appearance was rather forlorn, and it occurred to me that perhaps he needed someone to bring him a bit of cheer, so I taught him to play chess. Demonstrating impressive knowledge, he quickly learned the game with remarkable skill. I clearly recall one particular match that lasted for two days. He used all his men as pawns, thus allowing me to capture them with ease; however, he quickly endangered my queen, and I was barely able to avoid being trapped into checkmate.

Looking back, the irony makes me sick at heart. My worst enemy was once my best friend, and I am the one who helped him sharpen the wit he would one day use against me! Still I do not regret the days when I would amuse Ratigan by telling him stories of the great detective, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

"You must agree to take my case if I ever fall into the hands of criminals!" he would say every time I mentioned my future plans.

Naturally, I would agree, and we would shake to solidify the promise. I am thankful that at the time, I did not truly understand what I was saying. Being on Ratigan's case has cost me five hundred seventy-two nights of insomnia, eighty-six nights with no sleep at all, forty-nine migraines, twenty-seven nearly fatal confrontations, thirteen experiences of utter humiliation, and countless bouts of depression. After all the trouble, I never even had the pleasure of seeing Ratigan arrested.

Even considering all the difficulties, I have bittersweet memories of the last day of our friendship. I was to attend the university, and Ratigan had a most thoughtful parting gift for me.

He presented me with a trench coat and a deerstalker cap. "For the great mouse detective."

After receiving such a wonderful gift, I feared my present for him was unworthy. I had only two songs, written in honor of our friendship, to play for him on my violin. However, he seemed to like them.

I wish I had never composed the melodies! When I consider what I have done, I am nearly tempted to swallow cyanide! One of the songs I played had lyrics, and these same words were used to taunt me when Ratigan nearly executed me on an elaborate mouse trap! The second song was an instrumental; I had written the melody and advised Ratigan to think of the lyrics. I cringe when I recall the words he added to my melody some years later:

_From the brain that brought you the Big Ben Caper_

_The head that made headlines in every newspaper…_

Blaming oneself never does much good, so there's no point in dwelling on how Ratigan ruined my final gift to him.

The university was nothing like I had expected. Although I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of my courses and excelled as a student, my roommate and I were instant rivals.

"I have a list of rules I expect you to follow!" he informed me during our first meeting.

"If you were in a position of authority, I would gladly obey your every whim; however, I fail to see what gives you any right to force me to comply with your outrageous demands!" I responded.

When I wrote to Ratigan to ask his advice on the matter, he replied that my roommate was acting difficult due to a hidden problem. I resolved to find the cause of this unmerited actions. After three weeks, my roommate was still attempting to quarrel with me at every opportunity, and I had found no answers. Again I wrote to Ratigan, receiving the following response:

_Of course you haven't found any answers yet! Everyone on campus knows the two of you are roommates! They wouldn't dare say or do anything concerning him in front of you! Unless you have a good disguise, you won't learn anything!_

_Sometimes I worry about you. Although you have the ability to become a first-rate detective, you seem to have no knowledge of how a guilty conscience or hostile spirit can affect one's logic and behavior. That being, I have included a few minor items that you may wish to consider. _

When his "few minor items" turned out to be a three page list explaining criminal mentality in great detail, I should have been suspicious of the extent of his knowledge, but at the time, I failed to recognize the problem. Taking Ratigan's advice, I disguised myself one day as I sauntered around campus.

Paying me no heed, three young men were busy dividing money among themselves. Even though I knew it would be most improper to eavesdrop, I did so, holding a book in front of my face to appear uninterested.

"That was too easy!" one exclaimed. "He never defends himself!"

"All cowards are like that!" a second remarked.

The third laughed. "He is a coward! The only way he feels any self-esteem is by bullying his roommate."

I learned even more from their conversation than I had hoped, and not a day too soon. When I noticed my roommate preparing to leave the dormitory that night, I was ready.

"Don't do it!"

He shot me a baleful lower. "I thought you were asleep!"

"You don't really want to kill them," I stated, attempting to maintain my composure, even though I had never before been involved in such a dire situation. "Put down the gun."

His look changed from resentment to bewilderment. "What makes you think I have a gun?"

"I know three ruffians have been stealing from you, among other crimes. I also know you've never had the audacity to confront them. That's how you became so pugnacious. You believe the world is against you, and your way of fighting injustice is being cruel to anyone you don't believe has the valor to oppose you. If you are sent to prison for murder, you will spend the rest of your life knowing your oppressors won. Don't let them force you into obtaining a criminal history."

He made no audible reply, but the intense hatred in his eyes challenged me to continue.

"They've done wrong and will be brought to justice. You don't have to allow them to bring you down as well. It's already over for them. Do you really want to waste your life in a prison cell just when you've arrived at the point where everything will begin to improve?"

His gaze began to soften a bit.

"Besides, these are criminals. Even if you succeeded in murdering them without being sent to prison, you would still be endangering your own life. They no doubt know other scoundrels who would be happy to avenge their deaths by ending your life."

He continued to stare at me.

"Put down the gun," I repeated.

He dropped the gun and began trembling. "I don't know what I was thinking! And you…I have been rude to you for no reason, and you're still trying to help me! I can't believe I almost…!"

"It's alright now," I assured him.

"But how did you know I had a gun?"

"It was elementary," I replied, explaining how I had arrived at the conclusion.

He nodded. "You'll make a fine detective. After tonight, I suppose you already are one, aren't you?"

"Not officially," I answered. "I've much work to do yet."

"Am I the first one you've talked out of committing a crime?"

"You're the first one on the verge of perpetrating a felony, but I once dissuaded my childhood friend from starting a fight with someone who insulted him. He had lifted the offender off the ground by the back of the shirt, and I persuaded him not to use fists," I recounted.

"Your first hostage situation!" my roommate joked. Becoming serious, he added, "You realize that such events are more police work than the job of a private investigator, don't you?"

"My duties are to bring justice to the innocent and prevent further depravities by any means necessary," I responded.

"I will never again imperil anyone's life," he promised.

"I believe you."

From that day forward, my roommate and I never squabbled again. However, I became increasingly worried about life back home. Ratigan rarely wrote to me, and when I received his letters, I noted they were rather brief and almost more formal than personal. While I was pondering this dilemma, Mrs. Judson sent lengthy letters about a dangerous criminal who lived in London. This fiend was rumored to be more deadly than any other villain in the history of Mousedom. Detectives had been summoned from every city in the empire, and none could find sufficient evidence to convict this felon.

I frequently wrote to Ratigan, imploring him to use extreme caution, yet I feared the nefarious brute had already taken over my friend's life. After living in dread for what seemed an interminable length of time, I finally returned home. My first act was to buy myself a newspaper so I would be well informed of current events.

Upon seeing my former friend's name in the headlines, everything suddenly became clear. He had become the Napoleon of crime, and since I was the only detective who even remotely understood Ratigan's sense of logic and reasoning, I would have to be the one to see him arrested. If I refused to get involved, there would be no end to the innocent lives lost. I tried not to think about what would happen to Ratigan after his trial. Surely he would be found guilty of numerous crimes too horrible to mention, and then…

The words on the newspaper blurred until I blinked my eyes. I steeled myself enough to prepare for my first investigation involving Ratigan, but depression plagued me the rest of my life, and I never allowed myself to get close to anyone again.


	3. The Culprits

**The Culprits**

At this point, I paused my narration long enough to organize my thoughts.

"I wish Ratigan had never turned criminal!" Henry remarked, staring at the handcuffs around his own wrists.

"No good wishing that!" Lewis argued. "We're the ones who ruined our lives! It was our decision to join his gang! We brought this on ourselves!"

"Did Bartholomew bring it upon himself?!" Henry demanded. "He only became a henchman to save his own life! Even Felicia isn't entirely guilty!"

"You're joking, right?" asked Bill. "I still have nightmares about that demonic monster!"

"She only became a villainess because that's how she was treated!"

"She made her decision; we made ours," Robert stated.

"Fidget, what do you think?" Lewis inquired.

"I believe we are all at fault," Fidget replied. "If I had never volunteered to serve Ratigan, he would never have considered the idea of employing rough characters. Mousedom would have feared one felon rather than a criminal ring. By singing about his misdeeds and obeying his commands, we encouraged him to break the law. If you think of it in that manner, we all committed the Big Ben Caper and the Tower Bridge Job. We all drowned the widows and orphans, and every time the bell rang, it was because wewere the ones claiming another victim."

Bill sighed. "I never thought I'd live to see the day Fidget turned philosophical! I can't believe him! He's the complete opposite of how he used to be under Ratigan!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Fidget remarked.

"I suppose you don't drink Rodent's Delight anymore!" exclaimed Henry.

"I stopped drinking about a year ago. I realized excessive alcohol was affecting my brain in a negative manner."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "Will you give it a rest? We all know you're not a proper gentleman, and that sophisticated dialect of yours is fake! You're just speaking that way to irritate the rest of us!"

"You're right about that!" Fidget replied. "Okay. If you prefer to think of it this way, I don't drink because there was really no point anymore. Happy now?"

"I think I preferred your company when you couldn't keep still for over thirty seconds and had no intelligence whatsoever," Robert stated.

Fidget put a hand over his heart. "Really? I'm deeply moved. I didn't know you cared."

"You're an idiot!" Henry exclaimed.

He laughed. "An idiot? I could be. I never denied it. But then again, I'm not the one in handcuffs right now!"

"How'd you do it?" Robert asked. "You loved committing crimes! You even begged Ratigan to let you help plan a few! You're obviously guilty, yet you escaped without even going to jail!"

"There's a pretty good story behind that," Fidget answered, "but it isn't my turn. Everyone has gathered here today to hear Basil's story, not mine."

Bill turned to me. "Whatever happened to that roommate of yours that was going to kill the three thieves before you stopped him?"

"He should have killed them!" Lewis stated. "They were stealing from him! Murder would have been justifiable!"

"Do two wrongs make a right?" Henry argued.

"No, but three lefts do," Robert pointed out.

Henry scoffed. "Easy for you to joke! Your sentence is almost over!"

"Whether murder was justifiable or not in that situation, I'm glad he didn't do it!" Bill remarked. "Remember how we used to feel every time Ratigan rang the bell and we saw one of our companions…?" He didn't finish his sentence. "I just want to know what happened to Basil's roommate. I'm curious."

"He became a dignitary," one dapper gentleman replied.

"My finest dignitary!" added the queen.

"Thank you, Your Highness." The man bowed. "It is an honor to be at Your Majesty's service."

"You?!" Lewis gasped.

The man nodded. "Yes. I have the privilege of saying I knew Basil before he became the greatest detective in all Mousedom. When I see all of you here in handcuffs, it reminds me of what I almost became instead of a dignitary."

He extended his hand. "Mr. Basil, again I thank you for stopping me that evening."

We shook as I assured him I had been glad to be of service.

"What of the three delinquents who used to steal from you?" Dawson asked. "Did you inform the police?"

"Ratigan got to them first," Henry reported. "They weren't students; they were henchmen. The professor had only been a criminal for a few months, and he was already starting to hire anyone he thought would be useful to have in his gang. These three always thought it was fun to visit universities and torment scholars. I guess you could say that was Basil's first case against Ratigan since those ruffians worked for the rat."

"And where are they now?" Mrs. Judson queried.

Bill cleared his throat. "I'm afraid they're no longer with us."

"Not many of Ratigan's men lasted too long," added Fidget. "May they all rest in peace."

"And Ratigan himself?" Lewis challenged.

"He's already gotten what he deserved," Fidget responded. "I wish I'd been there to see it, but may he also rest in peace, even if he was the world's most vicious rat."

Everyone stared at him.

"Reforming my life doesn't mean I became sentimental," Fidget explained. "Doesn't Basil have a story to tell?"


	4. My Career Begins

**My Career Begins**

My first several cases were exciting. I felt I was finally making a difference in my community, proving myself to be the detective I had always hoped to become. However, it was not long before everything was mundane. The initial thrill of discovering clues and solving mysteries had departed.

That was when Ratigan committed his next depravity, more successful than any of his previous felonies. I vowed I would bring him to justice, but he always proved more clever than I, knowing precisely when and where to strike. Attempting to find evidence against him was such a frustrating challenge that I nearly became obsessed with the idea.

Ratigan's best henchman at the time was one of the worst criminals in the empire. Like Ratigan, he was the epitome of astute cunning and vindictive brutality. So great was his admiration for the world's greatest criminal rat that this fiend even called himself "Mousigan" as a tribute to his boss. Every time I found enough evidence to convict him, he easily evaded the police.

I would relish the honor of claiming I eventually brought the scoundrel to justice, but I will not shame myself by claiming unwarranted acknowledgment. Certain members of the police force had accompanied me to Pinchin Lane, where we believed the rogue to be hiding. Catching sight of the villain, we pursued him, and it seemed he would elude us yet again; however we found him between the paws of a young dog. Despite the criminal's pleas, the puppy refused to release him, and the fiend was apprehended.


	5. Discussions of Justice

**Discussions of Justice**

"Toby, right?" Robert asked. "That puppy who detained Mousigan until you could make the arrest was Toby."

"Indeed," I responded.

Mrs. Judson sighed. "There was no living with Mr. Basil after the great human detective, Sherlock Holmes, started working cases with Toby. Mr. Basil was so proud to have been the one who trained the dog Mr. Holmes always borrowed!"

"I thought Holmes owned Toby," put in Bill.

"He does now," Fidget explained, "but Toby used to belong to a different human, who loaned him to Holmes when necessary."

"Do you ever have any hard feelings?" inquired Henry. "I know Toby tracked you down during the Flaversham Failure."

"Why should I have hard feelings?" Fidget replied. "I'm not a criminal anymore."

Hearing applause, he turned his attention to an open window. Toby and Felicia, who were standing just outside, had overheard his speech and were tapping their paws together.

"Who taught them how to clap?!" Lewis demanded.

Fidget smiled. "I suppose they've always known. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they knew how to speak."

Bill sighed. "Be reasonable, Fidget! You were Ratigan's first henchman. You served him longer than any of the rest of us. Surely you know after all those years with him that Felicia can't talk."

"Everyone thought Tirade couldn't talk either," Fidget replied.

"Tirade wasn't a cat; Felicia is," Lewis argued.

"Who's Tirade?" Dawson whispered.

"I shall elucidate later, Doctor," I answered, knowing perfectly well it would be a sweltering day in January before I explained all my former cases to my associate.

"Whatever happened to Mousigan?" Robert queried.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Don't you remember? He got capital punishment!"

"He was hanged?"

"Not exactly. He escaped from prison and returned to the boss's lair, but Felicia had finally made the transition from adorable kitten to mouse killer. Do you honestly have no memory of the day when the professor said, 'My Felicia has malevolence in her heart! She's not so compassionate anymore! Her heart is as dark as mine!'?"

Robert cringed. "And then the boss made us all stand before Felicia so she could take her pick of her first two live victims!"

"Mousigan was the first one chosen."

"It isn't fair!" Lewis protested. "Everyone we know has either been arrested, reformed, or killed!"

"Is there a fourth option?" Bill asked.

"Fidget's guilty of kidnapping, but right now, he's acting like a philosophical gentleman, and he's regained full use of his wing! Is that justice? Bartholomew wasn't guilty of any felonies, but right now, he's…well, I'm not sure where he is since he never had a funeral, but he's dead! Is that justice? Robert's committed more crimes than I have, but his sentence is almost over while mine has barely begun! Is that justice?"

"The way I see it, you've got two choices," Henry answered. "You can get by with malice for a while, but in the end, you've either got to change your ways or take what you've got coming. Your fate is either undeserved mercy or deserved punishment. We had our chances to leave Ratigan's gang, but we didn't, so now we're getting what we deserve."

"Did Bartholomew deserve what he got?!" Bill demanded.

"No, but it was his choice to get drunk."

"Henry!" Lewis exclaimed. "It wasn't entirely his fault, even if he was drunk! We're the ones who ended the line of the song with 'You're tops, and that's that!' Considering the professor's last name, that was probably the only rhyme Bartholomew could think of! Besides, it may have been his choice to drink, but it was Ratigan's choice to take offense to everything! It was Felicia's choice to eat him!"

"Felicia's choice to eat Ratigan?" Robert joked. "You left a dangling modifier."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "We're all guilty of Bartholomew's death!" After a pause, he added, "And Ratigan's. Perhaps if we had helped him embrace his rathood instead of using it as an excuse to make him the object of ridicule, he would have…"

"It was his choice to become a criminal!" Henry stated. "We didn't force him!"

"Perhaps not directly, but…"

"Give it a rest!" interrupted Fidget. "This is Basil's day to share his story, not ours."


	6. The End Begins

**The End Begins**

After years of relentless pursuit, I finally believed I had found sufficient evidence to convict Ratigan. Never before had he left any clues that would connect him to his misdeeds, but I was firmly convinced that I had discovered precisely what I needed to make him stand trial. If the bullets from the gun I had stumbled upon matched the one previously recovered from the…

I was getting ahead of myself. There was work to be done. Attempting not to look too anxious, I nonchalantly strolled home. Even though I yearned to dash to Baker Street at my quickest pace, it simply would not have done to reveal myself in such a ludicrous manner. Years of disguising myself had taught me never to assume I was not being watched.

Arriving home, I flung the door open and exclaimed triumphantly, "Aha! The villain's slipped this time! I shall have him!"

I barely noticed my visitors. My thoughts were consumed with images of Ratigan in handcuffs or standing before a judge. Perhaps they would hang the felon. I cared not a whit what his sentence would be; I merely wished to capture him at last, thus freeing innocent citizens from his depraved mind.

Taking careful aim at a few pillows, I fired the gun, but I had forgotten about Mrs. Judson. She's usually rather pleasant company and an excellent housekeeper, but when she becomes wrathful, she tends to be more deadly than even the worst criminals I've confronted.

"MR. BASIL!"

I had to think fast.

"How many times have I told you…?!"

"There, there, Mrs. Judson. It's quite alright." I replied calmly. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, I ushered her to the kitchen, suggesting that she fetch some crumpets for our guests.

I then began searching for the bullet, which a young girl handed me. Although greatly annoyed by her interference, I tried to be polite.

"Thank you, Miss…"

"Flaversham," she stated. "Olivia Flaversham."

I had no time for introductions. Taking the bullet I had just fired and the one I had found previously, I held them close to my face. They looked identical. To make sure they matched perfectly, I examined them under my microscope.

Much to my chagrin, I discovered an inconsistency in the markings. Depressed, I trudged to my chair and began playing my violin. What was the point of continuing? Ratigan would always prove more vulpine.

"Now will you please listen to me? My daddy's gone, and I'm all alone!"

This child was beginning to vex me. I had just barely missed the opportunity to apprehend Ratigan, and she was complaining about being lonely!

"Young lady, this is a most inopportune time," I responded.

It was my way of politely asking her to leave me in peace and return to her home, but she somehow failed to comprehend my meaning.

"Surely your mother knows where he is!" I added, trying to convey the message more clearly.

"I…I don't have a mother," she answered softly.

This bit of information was considerably shocking. If the girl had no mother at home and something had happened to her father, she was in grave danger. Ratigan and his ruffians were most unkind to orphans. I wondered what could have happened to Mr. Flaversham that had convinced his daughter to seek my assistance, pondering why she would choose me out of all Mousedom's detectives to be the one to help her locate her missing parent. In fact, how had she arrived safely at my door without parental guidance? Was she asking me to take her case?

All these thoughts raced through my mind in a matter of seconds, and I nearly agreed to solve her problem. I then realized I had no time for it. Ratigan had to be stopped, and Mr. Flaversham had probably just been temporarily detained somewhere. I informed Miss Flanchester that I had no time for lost fathers.

"I didn't lose him!" she argued. "He was taken by a bat!"

She suddenly had my full attention.

"Did you say 'bat'?" I inquired.

"Yes."

"Did he have a crippled wing?" I queried eagerly.

"I don't know, but he had a peg leg."

Progress! She was describing Fidget, one of Ratigan's favorite henchmen! There was still a chance I would capture my longtime enemy! All I had to do was find Flaversham, and Fidget would lead me straight to Ratigan!

After my initial rush of excitement, I regained my composure. Lighting a pipe, I asked Miss Flamhammer to tell me everything, emphasizing repeatedly that the slightest detail may be important.

That was the beginning of the end, my final case against Ratigan.


	7. Forgiveness

**Forgiveness**

"Why couldn't you ever say my name right?" Olivia queried.

"If I may be frank, Miss Flaversham, you were a bit of a nuisance at first," I confessed. "I deliberately mispronounced your name to annoy you."

"I don't know how I'll ever thank you for your forgiveness," Fidget stated.

He turned to the queen and bowed. "I also thank you, Your Majesty."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Just three years ago, you were a gibbering kidnapper helping Ratigan attempt to murder the queen, and now you're a gentleman humbly showing gratitude for forgiveness! I liked you better the other way, Fidget!"

"I agree!" put in Henry. "Just once, can you act like the Fidget we used to know?!"

Fidget stuck his head out the nearest window. "Here, kitty! Come eat! Henry wants to see me kill someone!"

Knowing his threat was a mere jocosity, nearly everyone laughed.

He turned to me. "Remember when I left my hat near where you live, and you had Toby track me to the toy store?"

"I often wondered what could have possibly been going through your demented mind at that moment," I answered, "but I will admit your actions at the store demonstrated a trace of clever planning."

"I had to be agile," he stated. "After I broke my wing, Ratigan thought I was useless. You know what happened when he thought someone was useless, don't you?"

Felicia looked very uncomfortable.

Fidget reached out the window to comfort her. "It's alright. No one's blaming you. It was just the way Ratigan raised you. I still can't believe how slender you've become, and I admire your amity with Toby. I suppose you work cases with him now."

The cat accepted his affectionate taps on the head.

"I don't think the others are ever going to forgive me for reforming my life instead of going to prison. Do you ever get a similar feeling?"

Felicia nodded.

Lewis sighed. "How could he possibly have forgiven her? She's the reason for his peg leg!"

"Others have forgiven me, so it's not hard for me to forgive others," Fidget replied.

"Well spoken," Robert complimented.

"Thank you."

"I was being sarcastic."


	8. Humiliation and Triumph

**Humiliation and Triumph**

The fiasco at the toy store ended with Fidget succeeding in spiriting away the girl, but he left behind a list of vital importance, leading me to the Rat Trap later that evening. Dawson accompanied me, but it was painfully obvious that he had never before spent an evening in disguise. He acted most uncomfortable in his striped shirt and eye patch.

Less than two minutes after we entered the pub, I realized I had made a mistake inviting Dawson to join me. After years of visiting bars to gain information and plan the liberation of anyone working for Ratigan by force rather than choice, I knew how to make myself appear to be no different than the other customers. Dawson obviously had no experience in the matter. Every motion and gesture made him look utterly gauche.

"What's your pleasure, mates?" a barmaid asked.

"I'll have a dry sherry with…oh, perhaps a twist of…"

I quickly placed a hand over Dawson's mouth before he could say anything to ruin our cover.

I used the latest accent I had been practicing. "Two pints for me and my shipmate. Oh, by the way, we just got into port. We're looking for an old friend of mine."

The last statement held more than a trace of veracity. I was indeed looking for Ratigan, and he truly had been a friend once.

"Maybe you know him," I continued. "Goes by the name of Ratigan."

From they way everyone gasped, I could tell they knew him. They feared him; thus anyone trying to find Ratigan was cause for suspicion. If I were Ratigan's spy, they wished to dispose of me before I reported information that could end their lives. On the other hand, if I were an investigator, Ratigan would be incensed to know I had taken the liberty of visiting his favorite pub. Either way, I was a threat. Their reaction had told me as much, assuring me that I had chosen the ideal location to begin searching for my adversary.

"I never heard of him," the barmaid replied.

As the next act began on stage, I observed the bartender pouring a sort of mixture into our drinks. He had no doubt had years of practice drugging unwelcome visitors. I wondered what happened to those foolish enough to drink the tampered liquor. I suspected they were easily captured and brought before a certain sewer rat. Those he didn't trust would then promptly hear the ringing of a small bell.

When the barmaid brought our drinks, I cautiously touched a drop of beer to my tongue. These drinks most certainly had been drugged, but I was too late to warn Dawson. While I silently cursed his idiocy, he danced on stage with showgirls. As if humiliating me by blowing my undercover investigation weren't bad enough, he was indirectly responsible for starting a bar fight.

I thought I saw a slight smirk on Fidget's fiendish face as he swallowed the last of his Rodent's Delight. After reviving my companion, I followed the bat to Ratigan's lair, greatly frustrated at Dawson's incompetence to navigate through pipes. I wondered how anyone so dense ever graduated from medical school.

Despite the many hindrances of the evening, we finally arrived at our destination. Ratigan frequently changed the location of his lair; consequently, in my entire career, I had only discovered one of his hiding places, which he immediately ceased to use upon being informed of my detection. I had never imagined I would be so fortunate as to discover another lair, but it was right in front of my eyes. When Ratigan noticed I had managed to find where he was lurking about, he immediately surrendered.

"Alas! You're just too smart for me, Basil!" he cried. "Your mind is superior! I may as well come quietly, for I know now you will stop at nothing!"

He followed me to the police station, where he was promptly incarcerated, and I never had any trouble from him again.


	9. The Painful Truth

**The Painful Truth**

My recitation was interrupted by fits of hysterical laughter.

"Is that how it happened?!" asked Bill, who was completely breathless from mirth. "The boss just surrendered to you then and there?!"

Henry brushed his hand across his face in a vain effort to dry his eyes. "I remember the evening slightly differently, Detective."

I sent them a baleful lower, hoping my glare would silence them.

"It was my understanding that you had a bit of trouble," Queen Moustoria stated. "Am I mistaken?"

A gentleman never lies to his queen. "Your Majesty is correct. Ratigan's men were waiting for me with balloons and a banner which read 'Welcome, Basil!' The sewer rat forced me to sing a parody of his favorite song, during which I had to admit my inferiority."

Lewis snickered. "I remember that!"

Ignoring their comments, I proceeded to explain about narrowly escaping Ratigan's elaborate trap and arriving at Buckingham Palace without a moment to spare.

"I know it is most unbecoming for a gentleman to rush up to his queen and seize her, but I trust Your Highness understands I had no other option," I concluded.

"It was only to save my life, not out of insolence," Her Majesty stated. "I truly didn't mind."

Fidget looked slightly uneasy.


	10. The Final Farewell

**The Final Farewell**

After rescuing Queen Moustoria, my next act was to find Flaversham and liberate him from Ratigan's henchmen. The queen's guards seized control of the traitors while I seized control of the villain's robot. Having been utterly humiliated by the sewer rat, I determined to show no clemency. Perhaps I enjoyed myself a bit too much, but I have no regrets.

Bursting from behind the curtain, I called him a sewer rat. As he looked on in astonishment, I ordered his arrest. I could scarcely believe what was occurring; this was the highlight of my career. I had just apprehended the most dangerous criminal in the empire, outwitted the most devious genius in Mousedom. To ensure this, the most important night of my life, would never be forgotten, I removed the bell Ratigan carried in his pocket, doing so with such deftness that he never noticed.

That would have been the epitome of a happy ending, but such events rarely occur in real life. Fidget took Flaversham's daughter hostage as Ratigan freed himself from our grip. Flaversham, Dawson, and I made our own flying machine to catch Ratigan's dirigible as the brutes left with the girl.

It is essential to note there is a definite line between valor and folly. I most certainly crossed such a line, but to this day, I am unsure at which exact point this occurred. Perhaps I stopped being courageous and began to be foolish when I leaped onto Ratigan's dirigible.

I recall hearing the girl shriek, followed by the sound of breaking glass. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by various cogs and gears. My neck ached dreadfully, but the incessant noise of the clock made it impossible to concentrate. I realized my primary task was to free myself from this unusual prison, waiting until after I had reached safety to check for signs of serious injury.

"Basil! Look out!"

The girl's warning came too late. I turned just in time to see Ratigan's hand send me sprawling. He would have hit me again, no doubt finishing me off, but his hostage bit down as hard as she could on his glove. Knowing I had only a few seconds to react, I entangled his cape between two gears.

No sooner had I overcome one obstacle than another presented itself. Ratigan had managed to kick the girl between two gears; she would be crushed in mere seconds. Thinking quickly, I managed to save her life at the last possible moment, silently giving thanks to any and all powers that had aided me.

Something came over me, and I no longer cared about my own life. I had to get the girl to safety. Nothing else mattered. My heart was pounding more rapidly than ever before in my life as I heard Ratigan approaching, but there was still too much distance between Flaversham and his daughter.

She had her hand stretched out as far as she could. "Daddy! I can't reach!"

Ratigan lunged at me. I suppose that is not entirely accurate. A large, fearsome creature lunged at me, but it was not Ratigan. The monster before me had no ability to reason, no logic whatsoever. This was not the world's greatest criminal mind, but a wroth beast driven insane by his own hatred and malevolence. As the two of us fell a greater distance than I care to remember, I began to recall important events from my life.

I stretched out my hands in a vain attempt to grasp anything to prevent my inevitable demise but had no luck. Ratigan caught me midair, determined that I should receive the brunt of our landing.

Every muscle in me ached upon impact. Terrified, I realized that I was standing on one of the clock's hands. If I should make the slightest misstep, I would irrefutably fall to my death.

"Basil! Over here!"

I looked toward the sound of Dawson's voice and noticed our flying machine was nearing, to my immense relief. The girl was also safe in the arms of her father.

Everything might have been alright if Ratigan hadn't attacked me from behind. I knew fighting him would only cause greater injury, so I wriggled out of his grasp and fled. To my horror, I found him in front of me.

"There's no escape this time, Basil!"

I nearly shuddered at the sound of his voice, which held no trace of his previously feigned sophistication. It was the sound of pure hatred and enraged brutality, the sound of viciousness driven mad.

Again I turned and ran, and as before, he blocked my path. Clearly he was far more agile than I.

I had been expecting some manner of trouble if he caught me, but I had not anticipated his claws striking me twice with such force that I fell backward. Before I could rise, another such blow was administered. Two quick swipes shredded the front of my jacket before I felt my back torn as easily as paper. The next strike nearly knocked me off the edge.

The agony was intense. I had been sore before Ratigan began using his claws against me, but now I was in utter torment. My back and arms were stinging and throbbing dreadfully. Instead of fearing death, I began to welcome it, but some instinct forced me to cling to the hand of the clock after Ratigan's next hit caused me to fall. Too exhausted to fight or flee, I looked up helplessly as Ratigan finally succeeded in sending me to my doom. Dawson attempted to catch me as I plunged through the darkness, but it was to no avail.

At the last possible second, I managed to catch the wreckage of Ratigan's dirigible. Noticing the hour was about to change gave me an idea.

Ratigan laughed. "I've won!"

"On the contrary! The game's not over yet!" With that, I rang the bell I had taken from him.

As the clock's bell chimed the hour, the force of the vibration sent Ratigan to the ground. He attempted to take me with him, but he lost his grip while I continued to cling to the propeller.

We both survived. I'll never know how he did it, but later investigation revealed that Ratigan landed unscathed; however, he never again caused trouble for anyone. Felicia had seen to that.

At the time, I had no idea that Ratigan had indeed met his demise, for I was more concerned with my own survival. The propeller lifted me to the flying machine and those who awaited me there.

Olivia embraced me. "Oh, Basil! You saved my life! You're the hero! Ratigan had no chance against you!"

I've heard it said that the affection of a child is most precious, but with my stiff muscles and bleeding back, there was nothing wonderful about being embraced. I've never cared for sentimentality under the best of circumstances, and my current situation was certainly not my best.

Flaversham came to my rescue. "You might want to be more gentle with him until he gets better, Olivia."

She released me.

"Don't worry, Basil," Dawson began. "As soon as we return to Baker Street, I'll take care of your wounds."

"You most certainly will not!" I protested.

"If you remain still, you won't feel any pain," he coaxed. "Just think of the relief from your suffering! It will only take a few minutes."

"I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but I am unscathed," I argued.

Under no circumstances was I about to entrust my health to someone who had danced with showgirls while in a drunken stupor. Although I was slightly ashamed of myself for judging someone I had known only for two days, I wasn't about to allow Dawson to tend my injuries.

When we arrived back at Buckingham Palace to return the flag we had borrowed for our flying machine and find Toby, a guard stopped us. I recognized this gentleman as one of Ratigan's former henchmen, who had made his escape years ago. He informed us that Queen Moustoria requested our presence at once.

"I am highly honored, but I cannot appear before her injured!" I stated.

"Nevertheless, she has ordered, and you must obey," he replied.

Dawson frowned. "Injured? I thought you said you were unscathed!"

"I fail to see how this is any of your concern, Dawson!" I answered.

"Will you come?" the guard asked.

I crossed my arms. "It seems I have no choice. I will come."

If it had been up to me, I would have postponed the ceremony a few days, but one must not question the queen. After Her Majesty made a speech, I was loaned a jacket and knighted in front of everyone. When the scepter touched my shoulder, I nearly drew back, for I was still in anguish from my battle with Ratigan; however, I managed to maintain my composure.

Her Highness instructed me to accompany her as she addressed the crowd yet again. "I present to you Sir Basil, the greatest detective in all Mousedom!"

I tired to savor the moment, but I'm afraid I wasn't feeling too well. After the ceremony, journalists from nearly every newspaper in the empire interviewed me, and as a result, it was quite late when I arrived home. I suddenly realized I was beginning to feel rather weak. The adrenaline had worn off, and my pride prevented me from admitting the extent of my injuries, even to myself. When I immediately collapsed as I tried to stand, I concluded that I was dying.

The next thing I knew, it was morning. I was lying in my bed, stiff and weak. I slowly sat up and placed my hands on my sore back. That was when I felt the bandages.

"He didn't!" I muttered under my breath, gingerly feeling my arms. "He did! When I get my hands on him, I'll…!"

The only thing preventing me from yelling Dawson's name and demanding an explanation was the realization that I was the only one awake. Having no wish to draw attention to myself, I slipped outside for my morning paper.

Toby, who had no doubt stepped onto the porch to retrieve the paper for Mr. Holmes, acted elated to see me. I wished him a good morning, asking rhetorically how I had come to be wrapped in bandages and why the story of my latest case was printed on the front page of my newspaper when I had merely been doing my job.

Temporarily lost to reverie, I repeated to myself that it was finally over. Ratigan was dead. The world's greatest criminal mind had been outwitted by the great mouse detective. The shock of my triumph overcame me, and I did something I had never before done in my life: I burst into song.

My joy was cut short as I wondered if perhaps Ratigan were still alive. After a brief investigation at Big Ben, during which Toby and Felicia accompanied me, I was convinced the fiend was dead, and I had survived without serious injury. The knowledge was most gratifying. Well, perhaps my wounds had been slightly worse than I thought, but still…

Suddenly I remembered Ratigan as a child. I recalled how close we had been as friends, playing chess or telling each other stories. Despite my best efforts, I could not push aside memories of childhood games and jokes we had shared. Before I could stop myself, my mind slipped, causing me to wonder what life might have been like if Ratigan had never become a criminal. With our combined intelligence, we could have…

"You were such a good friend!" I whispered rhetorically, staring at my bandaged arm. "How could you have done this?"

I had meant to return to Baker Street immediately, but I stopped by the cemetery first. Realizing I had accidentally donned my shredded jacket before I left home, I removed my coat. I had no further use for it as it made me look most unprofessional. Seeming to understand what I was about to do, Toby dug a small hole.

"Here I lay to rest our previous amity and our current enmity," I began. "You were a powerful enemy, but before you allowed your heart to darken, you were an even more powerful friend. I shall never forget you or the potential we could have had as partners if our respective careers had not been in opposition to each other. I still hold you in high regard for your superb cunning, and I forgive you for every time you attempted to end my life. Mousedom has suffered a great loss, for you could have contributed so much to the empire if you had not yearned to destroy the lives of its citizens. May you rest in peace forever, Ratigan."

Having finished my brief eulogy, I threw my jacket into the hole. I know burying my coat was a pathetic excuse for a funeral, but at the time, it was all I could think to do to honor Ratigan's memory. Felicia removed the bow from her hair and threw it beside the jacket, and Toby covered both with items with earth.

Holmes was waiting on the porch. "Toby! Wherever have you been?! I see our visitor seems to have recovered!"

By "visitor," he meant "Felicia," who had been badly mauled by the royal guard dogs the previous evening.

I attempted to slip into my own home unnoticed, but it is indeed most difficult to sneak past a detective.

"What in the name of Doyle…?! Watson!"

"Is there a problem, Holmes?"

"Observe! That mouse is wearing clothing!"

Felicia grabbed me and crammed me into her mouth.

"I don't see a mouse, Holmes."

"Perhaps you're right, Watson. Besides, whoever heard of a mouse wearing clothes? Humans are the only species to don attire."

As soon as the humans had focused their attention elsewhere, Felicia spit me out as carefully as possible, gently running her paw over my bandages to make sure none had been misplaced. I entered my flat and noticed Dawson at the breakfast table. Remembering how I had been bandaged without my knowledge, I strolled over to where he was sitting and announced that we needed to talk.


	11. My Story Ends

**My Story Ends**

"Of course there's more to the story than that," I concluded. "There's the story of how Dawson and I worked out our differences to the extent that I made him my associate. Then there's the anecdote of how Holmes reacted when he found my cap, which I had carelessly left in the middle of the floor."

"How is it you didn't know you were getting bandaged after you fought Ratigan?" Fidget asked.

"Apparently, I went into shock. At least that's what Dawson claims. I, for one, don't believe it. I, Detective Basil of Baker Street, go into shock?! The idea is utterly absurd."

"When I hear you describe the fight, it's almost too much!" Flaversham exclaimed. "_**I**_was Ratigan's victim! You didn't have to be! You took my place! And you almost gave your life for my daughter!"

"Do save the sentimentality, Flaversham," I responded.

Robert turned to the other prisoners. "This is probably the last time we'll all be together like this. Some of us are going to be released from prison shortly while others remain for quite a while. Those who never went to prison will be leading their own lives, having no time for the rest of us. We're no longer Ratigan's gang plagued by a detective because we're holding hostages; we're all either prisoners or respectable citizens. Years will pass without any of us speaking to each other, and then we'll all die of old age, and history will forget us."

"I admire your optimism, Robert!" Lewis remarked sarcastically.

"If we never have a chance to come together like this again, I want to live the rest of my life knowing I once had the chance to do this!"

"To do what?" Henry asked.

Robert whispered something to the other henchmen.

Bill laughed. "What an excellent idea! You want in on it, Fidget, for old times' sake?"

"I have a feeling I don't," Fidget answered.

Henry shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Before I could protest, Ratigan's former henchmen seized me and spun me around while singing. I recognized the tune, but this time, instead of using the words "Oh, Ratigan!" they changed the phrase to "Oh, Basil!" If I recall the song correctly, it described cases I had solved, ending with "To Basil, the world's greatest sleuth!" It was an incredibly humiliating experience for me, but they relished every second.

"You didn't get to share much of your life story!" Dawson remarked after we had returned home. "You shared some, but those fiends kept interrupting! No one ever got to hear the details of your former cases or what your family life was like when you were a child or…"

"Should not a detective's life story maintain an air of mystery?" I asked. "Besides, I sincerely believe there was absolutely no need for my narration."

"Don't you want to be remembered next century?"

"Doctor, no one in the twenty-first century will know or care that I ever existed."


End file.
